Legacy & War (Battle of Nippur)

[Gilgamesh]

Pain jolted into the king’s body as he crashed into the nearby building. Dust and brick were all that were around him, crushing his already broken ribs. Gilgamesh coughed violently and was met with a handful of blood. He would be angry that this mutt spilled his blood but the mixture of pain and fatigue was unbearable. With his ragged, newly manicured hands, the king attempted to push off the massive weight of the brick wall.

Surprisingly, it came off with ease. The King’s relief was short lived due to the appearance of a cybernetic rodent. The Rodent pushed off the rest of the mortar and grabbed the King by his chestpiece, raising a fist to Gilgamesh’s face.

“Give up Gilgamesh, this battle is over.” A bloodstained smile came to the king’s face. His head began to dissolve into incorporeal dust, leaving an opaque shadow of what used to be the king. The mouse attempted to punch Gilgamesh, whose fist instead was met with the sea of bricks.

Gilgamesh quickly jumped back, as the golden dust began to fill him up, bringing color to his pale form. He fell to his knees, enough blood pouring out of his mouth to fill a lake. He looked up and glared at the mouse who just finished pulling his fist out of the wall. Golden portals appeared above his head, spears and swords coming out to greet the mouse.

“You’re right. It is over. Be glad I’m granting you the honor of becoming my personal pincushion, cur.” The mouse’s eyes widened in fear for a split second as he saw the variety of weapons shoot out at him. Gilgamesh smiled as he thought about the pain the mongrel would endure as the swords would pierce his flesh. However, he was soon met with disappointment. The mouse was managing to do backflips over his swords. It was unbelievable that this mutt had such finesse to dodge his attacks. A final spear came out to pierce the mongrel’s flesh.

“DIE YOU CUR! JUST DIE.” The spear launched itself at the mouse. It suddenly stopped. That cursed rat had caught the spear and was now tainting it with it’s filthy hands. That spear was made by the finest craftsman in Babylon with an oak shaft and golden tracings over the entire piece. It shall not be defiled by that creature any longer!

“Get your disgusting fingers off my treasures you thief! How can something” A mixture of blood and spit trailed out of his mouth as he almost screamed at the mouse.

“Oh I’ll gladly comply.” The rabid dog smiled as it grabbed the spear and broke it over his knee. Gilgamesh’s eyes were brimmed with rage and he grit his bloody teeth. He grabbed the dirt beneath him and tossed it in the direction of the sickening animal.

“You sickening abomination! How could you dare defile my treasures! You come into my kingdom and ruin my lands! Nothing but the enjoyment sending off the horses that will tear your limbs off will reimburse this horrendous offense.”

The rat then put Gilgamesh’s face to the ground and threw the king with all his strength. Gilgamesh face skidded upon the ground and his entire body bounced like a ragdoll. As the momentum finally stopped he brought himself to his feet. His knees shaking and droplets of blood raining upon his already blood coated armor.

“You think you’re funny huh? Quite ironic that you destroyed something that is worth more than you. Let us see if your so called heroism will save you now.”

Gilgamesh opened up a portal beside him and took out a metal machine that he quickly put on his hand. It’s heavy nature immediately dropped his hand before he raised the iron cannon and began to charge it. A shining blue orb began to collect in its center.

A sly smirk came to his face as he whispered, “Finish Buster.”

Gilgamesh mimicked Tier 1 Super Move Finish Buster -1 SP

[Proto Man]

With a smug grin, Gilgamesh discharged the bastardized buster attack. The ancient metal shuddered as the concentrated energy beam lanced outward, immolating everything in its wake as it barreled toward its target.

Proto Mouse had been momentarily taken aback by the king’s ability to replicate one of his attacks, but after the initial surprised faded away, the contingencies were already falling into place in the cyborg’s mind. Clutching a gauntleted fist over his chest, he narrowed his eyes and breathed out as a swirl of lights appeared in front of him.

When the beam found its mark, it struck the shimmering surface of the cybernetic fighter’s shield. The white surface held strong as the finish buster roared and burned against it. Within moments, the strength of the blast slowly started to fade, and with a grunt, Proto Mouse redirected what remained of it into an adjacent structure.

For his part, the cyborg stayed where he’d stood and watched as the dust slowly settled to the ground around him. As it did, he saw that the bloodied king was still standing, his arms gripped around the now dead barrel of the patchwork metal cannon. When he realized that his opponent was unscathed, one of the monarch’s eyes twitched subtly as he dropped the iron weapon and kicked it to the side of the street like a piece of trash.

He couldn’t help it.

Proto Mouse smiled.

“Does this amuse you, cur?” Gilgamesh rasped as a gate yawned open behind his bruised, bloodied shoulders. The blonde reached back to find something in the gate as his eyes burned holes through his opponent. When he drew his hand back, he was holding a long, elegant scythe nearly as long and wide as its owner’s torso. Hoisting the weapon up, Gilgamesh let the pole of the weapon rest against his shoulders. The monarch snickered as he gently rocked the blade back and forth, allowing it to catch a few rays of the sun. “Here comes the reaper.”

With a burst of speed, Gilgamesh rushed forward and swung the hefty weapon.

The rodent winced and leapt back, his legs barely escaping the downward arch of the blade as it smashed into the street and gouged through brick, stone, and dirt. Proto Mouse landed smoothly on his metal soles and watched as his opponent wrenched the weapon up from the earth and glared at him, his chest heaving as he glanced at their surroundings.

Before Proto Mouse could bring his weapon to bear, Gilgamesh dashed forward and lashed out with a wide, sweeping slash that was almost too easy to evade. When the cyborg landed on his feet after dodging the swipe, he quickly realized that he hadn’t been too far off the mark. A yard or so away, the scythe crashed through the corner of a building, effortlessly removing nearly half of the buildings first floor.

From behind Gilgamesh, a half dozen golden chains erupted from a portal, hooking onto parts of the four-story structure’s upper floors.

“Die.”

The chains all recoiled, and with very little supporting it, the building crumpled forward into the street.

And down onto Proto Mouse, who could only squat and summon his shield as the avalanche swallowed him.

Gilgamesh watched with a wide grin on his visage as the mouse was crushed beneath the building. “Mongrel.” He muttered as he returned the scythe to his collection of treasure. “Reduced to dust like all the other peasant scum.”

From within the pile of dust-laden debris, there was a flash of light as a blast of energy shot through the rubble and nearly took off Gilgamesh’s skull. As the king stumbled backward, he caught a glimpse of a red-and-black mass liberating itself from the collapsed structure. With a flash, a gate opened beneath the stumbling king and launched chains at his adversary.

Proto Mouse narrowed his eyes and lashed out with the Proto Sword, cleaving apart the glittering chains as they tried to snake their way around his limbs and throat. As the chains fell limp onto the ground before him, the cyborg glanced to their surroundings, his eyes narrowing as he swept their surroundings.

“All clear,” he muttered, almost to himself. “…all clear.”

A column of light touched down behind Proto Mouse, and in a flash of light, one of his brothers appeared. The mohawked machine nodded his head and held out a hand as a charge started to build in his palm.

Not entirely sure what was going on, Gilgamesh knew he didn’t like it, and he moved forward to put an end to it. Proto Mouse stepped forward, and the two were caught in a scuffle that ended only when the mouse threw the monarch.

Stumbling, Gilgamesh could only watch as the bomb hit the ground before him.

Used Tier 1 Super Defense -1 SP
Used Tier 2 Super Attack Mega Bomb -2 SP

[Victor Wolfe]

Victor's skin prickled almost as much as his ears perked up at the sound of demonic chanting, alerting him to the incoming danger of a bullet possessed of fire aimed right at him, and with a quick well balanced lean back the bullet zoomed past him, into and through a rack of wine. Causing shards of glass and alcohol to fly everywhere from the impact, blinding both of the combatants. Victor winced as the alcohol assaulted his eyes but not letting it slow him he pressed the button on his belt, jumping backwards and then standing perfectly still, not allowing the pools of liquid around his feet to give his location away again.

His eyes quickly healed the damage done by the wine and he returned to observing his prey. “Not as dumb as I first thought, perhaps a new strategy is in order. I need to get him away from that wall” Victor thought analyzing the situation. A devious plot formulated in his mind, one he began to put into motion. “Let's call it a draw if you don't mind. I'm not suicidal, perhaps a flying megalomaniac sounds a lot safer than this!"” Victor shouted. Dean was clearly skeptical not moving away from the safety of the wall.

An inspired idea hit Victor prompting him in leaning down and plucking a number of pieces of broken bottle, while trying to avoid attention from his demonically challenged foe, he mentally readied himself for his next attack and its eventual counter-attack.. Taking careful aim Victor hurled the bottle green glass into one of several puddles near the far end of the room,, Dean fell for feint, taking a step away from the wall. “Hunts over, a shame too, this was just getting fun” Victor had to hold back laughter from malicious glee.

Ghosting behind the demon with a level of grace that would make a cat jealous Victor began pulling power into his blades until a flickering light of lethal energy radiated into them, damaged though they were. "Looks like this is my last big chance, better make it count and carve this demon up really nice” Victor thought to himself. Once he was just a step behind Dean he swung his blades taking the demon by total surprise, the explosive energy hitting his arms, deep lacerations appearing as the blades dug in and the energy was unleashed into the wounds. The demon tumbled forward from the impact, into the glass and wine on the floor, the white liquid running red with blood from both the hunter and his prey.

Victor looked down at the stunned demon feeling the exhilaration of a possible kill the rush giving him the energy to move “You know, that may have killed me, had you not been a total knave and shouted out before you fired.” Victor leaned down looking Dean in the eye before punching him square in the face the cracking oh his knuckles against his face giving a satisfying sound. “Next time wait until after you hit your opponent with your attempt at a coup de grace before taunting them, like I do, that was mine and as you can see it was a bit more effective than your sorry attempt.” Victor leaned in even closer to the demon. “Any last words before I end your sorry existence?” Victor chuckled.

“Go…Fuck…Yourself” Dean said pouring anger into each word before proceeding to spit hitting the boot of Victor Wolfe. “I am going to enjoy this far more than I should, I don’t know when it will end for you, but I think I am going to take my time down here.” Victor grinned with sadistic glee before kicking him to the face.


"Not to be cliché, but this nice thing must come to the end, preferable with you missing your head." Victor readied his daggers, prepared to finally kill the demon.

used tier 1 offensive super Now you see me... 1 sp used 0/3 remaining

[Thaal Sinestro]

“Avada Kedavra!”
The beam of snaking, wild green energy crackled and sputtered, casting sparks of emerald energy like bolts of magma from the main stream. The man’s face twisted in a way that displayed his hatred, his vile and repugnant distaste for life. His teeth grit, his lips curled, his eyes were ablaze with fury.

Sinestro’s hand whipped forward, and a thin line of amber energy spot forward. Just before the beam impacted the killing spell, it blossomed outward into a large, six-sided shield. In the matter of an instant, the single cell spread into a vast network of interlocking hexagons, intercepting the dark magician’s spell.

Snarling, the bloodied wizard flourished with his wand, a ripple of new magic coursing forward. As it struck the hard-light construct, the thinnest of cracks opened up on its outer side. Gritting his teeth, the lantern felt his heart beating in his chest. He felt the pressure of the moment. He felt the swell of instinct well up inside him as his yellow eyes looked upon a force that would kill him. His ring gleamed, and power was matched with power, the two men in a deadlock.

“Can you see you death coming, you whelp?” Riddle screeched over the clash of their instruments. “Are you afraid? Are you afraid of dying?”

“Afraid?” Sinestro sneered, “AFRAID!?”

A thick wall of golden light surged, crashing into the intersection of their might, slowly pushing back the wall of green. The city streets were bathed in a sea of terrible illumination, the collective terror of the universe made tangible as it pressed into every surface. The sharp scent of ozone filled the air, particles of the air charged as the ring released shockwaves of energy across every spectrum. Children cried, men shrieked, and windows shattered as the brilliance of his ring grew brighter and brighter, until the very gleam of the sun was drowned out by the Yellow Light of Dread.

“I AM FEAR!”

Tom’s eyes grew wide as the killing curse was devoured by the overwhelming power of the ring, awe-stricken by the alien emotions that fluttered through his belly. Tom Riddle’s fingers trembled on his wand, reverbs of his magic pulsing through it. His mouth split open into a wild shout as his arcane will finally sputtered out, and only the wall remained.

As quickly as the construct had been formed it dissipated, revealing the radiant form of its creator behind it. Tom unconsciously took a step backwards as the leader of the Sinestro Corps loomed over him, his horrible power casting deep shadows in every direction.

Tom began to stammer out a word, but was interrupted as a dense beam of energy crashed into his head, cratering it into the ground. Just when the Dark Lord’s eyes began to open, a barrage of heavy blasts hammered down into him, tearing up the earth and pushing his bedraggled body further and further into the soil, perforating his robes and flesh with equal ease. It was only when Sinestro saw the bloody tatters of the mage’s broken body that he ceased the assault and turned his attention elsewhere.

The giant hog with a flamethrower-wielding baby riding atop it caught his eye.

The sky itself rippled as Sinestro took to the sky, careening with incredible speed into the battlefield. A trio of battered Babylonians stood and gawked as Ganon stomped and roared, blood flowing from its wounded eye. Without a word and flying silent as the death, the korugaran deputy formed a translucent, amber blade in his hand.

With a single swift movement, the hard-light scimitar opened up three massive cuts along each of their legs, the trio instantly buckling and collapsing to the ground with a spray of blood and a chorus of pained screams.

Sinestro rocketed past them and down the street faster than anyone could see, let alone respond to. He was forced to slow down to bank upwards, and his flight path arched through the clouds, making a lazy three-quarter loop and ripping straight back down towards the ground at a perpendicular angle. Below him? The pathetic creatures he had just hamstringed.

Without its master so much as moving, the ring called forth a long, wickedly barbed harpoon into the air beside him. With the full speed that his ring would allow him, he jettisoned the spear at the first target that got in his way.

Shay screamed in agony as a golden shaft of light pierced his leg, pinning it to the ground. A beat later, Sinestro’s fist hammered into his gut, literally splintering the road beneath him. A spray of blood flew from his lips, and there was no air left in his lungs to scream.

The lantern then turned his gaze to the white-robed healer. “You should have just died.”

Used Super Move: Hard Light Wall (1 SP)
Used Tier 2 Transformation (2 SP)
0 SP remaining

[Gildarts]

Coarse pebbles clung still to the lines of Gildarts’ face, blood had woven its way into the man’s eyes, and a silt mask embedded deep into the wizard’s skin. The wrinkles in his garments were painted from head to toe, leaving everything, even his cape, covered in the shaded landscape around him. The only thing that gave away his position was the breaking of rock as though it were butter, that, and the radiant glow of his eyes.

Pain screamed from the corners of his mind, tugging and begging the man with all his might, to bow in mercy to the telepathic spell. I’ve been fighting this hell all my life... Gildarts thought against the madness with pure grit. Death, destruction, devastation, even if I look... think away for just an instant, someone dies, the ground below my feet rips the earth in two, or I simply punch too hard. In a battle that is not meant to draw blood, it is spilt.

Power, rage, and distinct resolution all smoldered from his gaze, plus, it seemed that the encounter with the boulder had shaken Gildarts out of his state of perpetual misery. The being he faced, so flagrant and lacking honor, had attempted to persuade him in the hot midst of their battle, to change sides. It hadn’t been even a worthy thought to consider, but even if the intent was distraction, a snare like a thorn in his mind, the wizard growled in opposition. Such proposals were due after a fight. After someone had claimed the victory. After someone had won.

Beads of hot sweat etched pale lines across the slate, gray mud that coated him. Trickles of rain came from above, kissing the sweat away, and running salt into the crimson lines of his wounds.

A grimace now etched on the Prime’s brow and ripples of uncontrolled power sprung off him with hops of lightning and spun in tornadoes, whirling in disarray. Fear, an alien emotion to the God-Mind, sprung from the hollow depths of Nealaphh’s soul. Chilling, coiling, repulsive fear tainted its holy, inhumane mind. Gildarts looked at the creature, his torched eyes now narrowed in anguish. He took advantage of the stunning effect of the being, and raised his hand at the hobbled figure. Rain sizzled against jos hot metallic arm and suddenly the bombardment of force came crashing down upon Nealaphh like a volcano, whose momentous cascade of force could not be contended.

The God-Mind had been plagued by that sickening stress that pounded in his thoughts while the rumble of its outer shell had been paired with the destruction. Streams of black blood mixed with the puddles moving with the drizzle of rain. It was aware, unearthly aware, of the unforgiving look in Gildarts’ eyes. The one that screamed both for terror and for mercy. It didn’t take a mind reader to realize that Gildarts had lost control of his power, and it was swimming as freely as it pleased. And it was pleased to target Nealaphh.

Meanwhile the creature took its chance in a viridescent blaze and vanished away from the predator, now smeared in a mix of dark curtain over his skin; in place of the mud, a shadow loomed over his eyes, and in specks across his open flesh. The stench of gross gore was muddled by the sweet taste of rain, and once Gildarts caught sight of his opponent, his shaking fist struck through the air and released a sliver of energy, striking the God-Mind in the one-eyed side of his shrouded face.

With a painful shriek of anguish, the luminous green glow of its eye vanished. A slice now etched itself through the being’s left cheek, and smeared a gooey glaze of tinted emerald on black. Now, invigorated- infuriated- the being need hold nothing back. Bursts of energy, dark and malevolent, seared at Gildarts’ flesh, and with the refreshing wave of agony, he flooded back to reality. The shaking in his fists had stopped, the quaking ground below his feet, but luckily, death had yet to come.

“You have fought well, creature of the darkness,” Gildarts commended, his voice was hoarse with stress as he choked out every consonant, “However I have no intention of breaking your will.”

Glitters of pain sprung forth in his joints at every movement. Hot like magma, the blood flooded in his veins while the ache in his head incessantly pounded to the pulse of his heart. The Prime’s hair fluttered in the wind, his bones were chilled with the glacial cold that near froze the dew on his beard.

He took the time to steal a breath...

Tier 1 power up used - 1 sp
fear!
(powers) Insight (?) BM
Tier 2 supermove(Ikazuchi) used this round - 2
crushing punch!
detonate (planted, to go off next round)
Crash!

(4 used last round, I decided to keep my super stat enhancing power up, and opt for a T1 supermove instead)

7/7 sp used

Nealaphh used mind surge, quantum uncertainty, warp burst offensive, temporal jaunt

[Ganondorf]

Despite his formidable strength, it seemed that the Beast Ganon had met his match against the trio that stood against him. Even with the, albeit small, help from the toddler he had riding upon him, the three warriors who stood before him had managed to turn the tides in the face of his incredible power.

More of Gilgamesh’s cronies had joined against Ganon’s mighty onslaught, including the woman from before. One had injured the great beast’s snout while another had nearly blinded him with a slash across his eye. It was, in a word, infuriating to the Demon King. While he could not fault them for combining their strength against him, that these… worms would dare the injure him was unforgiveable! The fools would pay for this indignation.

From within Ganondorf’s soul, the Triforce of Power unleashed an increased torrent of power, further feeding the beast’s strength. Muscles hidden by dense, coarse fur rippled as renewed vigor surged through the Dark King. Their eyes widened as the beast’s mass grew before their eyes, and hamstrung as they were by Sinestro’s surprise assault, they were unable to bring up a proper defense against Ganon.

The beast reared up upon its rear legs, letting loose a roar of unequivocal rage and intensity, and nearly unseating his passenger. Two meaty hands wrapped themselves around his male opponents and, with a thunderous sound, slammed them together. Once, twice, thrice, the men came together, their bodies nearly ragdolls in the hands of the great boar demon. And on the third clap, Ganon dropped their limp forms to the dust at his feet and turned his eye upon Agnes. Somewhere within the beast, Ganondorf rebelled against using his strength against her, but the tide of fury and animalistic instinct was overwhelming.

It was fortunate the woman was quick on her feet, for she was able to avoid the creature’s tusks and claws. Even so, it was apparent the woman was straining herself to do so, and Ganon’s own unique abilities soon had her fighting just to keep clear of his wild slashes and gores. For Stewie’s part, the boy seemed more than happy to simply let Ganon do his thing, especially with the men out of the fight, for now.

Soon enough, the wench made a misstep. Her ankle twisted beneath her as Agnes leapt aside to avoid one of Ganon’s attacks, and she fell to the paving stones beneath them. If creatures such as Ganon had lips, this would be when they would twist into a sadistic grin. Dark, reddish-grey erupted from around his fist, a sinister energy pulsing and flowing from his dark magic. The attack charged a moment as Agnes looked at the Dark Beast with wide-eyed terror and struggled to make her feet. And, when it was ready, Ganon threw his fist forward, his growling voice shouting the words, “Hellfire STRIKE!”

A fiery explosion rocked the area as Ganon’s fist impacted. Unfortunately, it had missed its target. At the last second, Shay had managed to launch himself at Ganon’s arm, turning the blow aside just enough to keep Agnes from taking the full brunt of the damage. Of course, the resulting shrapnel and the force of the magically-powered blow sent the two sprawling away from the Demon King. Ganon turned to regard his opponents once more, Stewie giggling gleefully from atop his back, his flamethrower spouting bursts of fire into the air Mad-Max style. It seemed that all three had regained their composure and were once again prepared to take the unlikely duo on. So be it, Ganondorf thought. Let this be the end of this. And the monstrous creature charged them anew.

The three warriors of Nippur steeled themselves and their resolve, yet just before Ganon reached them, the beast’s step faltered and it came to an abrupt halt. Power slipped away from the Demon King and he felt his strength beginning to waver. Ganon writhed wildly as first his fur, then its flesh began to slough from his body. In his mad thrashings, the beast managed to throw aside his foes, whom in their confusion at the sight were caught offguard by a backhand swipe from the Demon.

In moments, all that was left of Ganon was a pile of steaming meat and viscera, within which the smaller, yet still impressive, form of Ganondorf was standing glistening in the desert sun. His breath was heavy with fatigue, and the injuries put upon his Demon Form had transferred to his usual visage. Nearby, Stewie pulled himself from the gristle with a gagging cough and glared at Ganondorf.

“What the hell, man?! That was my best pair of overalls!”

Upgraded from Tier 1 Powered-Up Form to Tier 2.
Used Hellfire Strike.
Downgraded to Standard Ganondorf.
2 SP used. 0 remaining.

[Demetri Malius]

The corners of the thief’s mouth wrinkled with a smile as he pulled out his second stolen dagger from his satchel. From this distance, he could still sense the sorcerer and warlock, and it just so happened that they have run out of steam, though they hardly seemed aware of their own vulnerability. Such arrogant knaves were the type that Demetri loved to humble. The thief couldn’t help but give a small chuckle as he retrieved another small dagger from his satchel. His heart pulsed with excitement at the thoughts in his mind. It was time to act.

Demetri burst into action, scaling the wall and using his chain to pull himself up and onto the rooftops, just before he masked his presence. The two reminded the thief of commanders on the battlefield, leading an army into victory against another kingdom. They were always prideful and careless, leading them towards an easy fall, humiliated and defeated. These men would be no different.

The soft patter of Demetri's footsteps were near silent as he raced onto the battlefield once more, moving in to strike his foe. With a graceful leap he then fell through the air, his target below him. The sorcerer seemed to be targeting the healer and templar, in which the hatter seemed unconscious. With a keen eye, Demetri saw the glint of light that reflected of the two shiny flintlock pistols. Perhaps he could make use of them.

The thief’s soles grazed his target as they slid down the sorcerer's back before finding their mark where the sorcerer’s knees bent, the full force of Demetri’s falling body slamming down on the joint, causing him to buckle. The sorcerer gave a muffled growl of pain before a blade fell across his face, giving a horizontal slice to his brow. Blood seeped into the sorcerer’s eyes, his vision turning a crimson red.

The nimble thief climbed over the sorcerer’s tumbling body before using it to leap forwards, forcing the sorcerer’s head backwards into the ground. With a roll, Demetri put himself between the two leaders of the enemy force towards the two trapped allies, his image coming back into sight after his attack. Once he stood, he carried the two firearms that he managed to retrieve from the floor behind him, along with a small handful of round pellets. He stashed one while he shot the other, as he noticed the small child-like prime that lingered near the warlock. Such deceiving looks would not fool the thief’s senses.

“You will need to defend yourself. we must work together.” The thief called out to the surprised girl before tossing her a sword and dagger from his satchel, before he executed the next part of his plan, taunting the sorcerer. “Have you so little intelligence that you would turn your back to a hidden enemy? Only a fool would do such a thing!”

The sorcerer huffed as he picked himself off the floor, his eyes burning, blinded with blood and rage. “Why would I need to worry about some coward who can only manage to scratch my skin?”

With a quick raise of his hand, a large blast formed and shot out from his ring, the charged yellow sparks flying through the air towards the cloaked thief. A simple shield was brought out from the thief’s bottomless satchel with one hand as the other retrieving the spear. The beam hit the shield in the center, splintering the wood as the thief was sent through the air, some of the energy managing to pierce through and scald his arms. The thief grimaced only for a second before he tossed away the singed shield, though he feel the tightness of his chest from accumulating injuries. He turned as he flew through the air, arching his back and twisting the spear to his new target, the warlock focused on the girl. As the tip of the spear made contact with the warlock’s armor, the wooden handle of the spear splintered, snapping as it made a large dent in itr. However, Demetri had already used the spear for its function, as it allowed him to get behind the warlock, retrieving his last dagger and plunging it into the warlocks spine. Once the warlock had swung back to catch his assailant, Demetri had already vanished.

Not but a second later, the thief appeared, back at his ally’s side as he shot the other pistol at the sorcerer, who was preparing his ring for another strike at the healer. With his focus interrupting his magic was halted, his eyes narrowing in anger.

“Both of you know not of your own pride, when your power has expended, you forget that you are just the same as everyone else.”

Demetri used chains.
Demetri used from satchel : two daggers, one sword, one shield, one spear, Flintlock Pistol(2 shots)
Items left in satchel:1 sword, 1 shield, Gauntlets of the Demon King, Flintlock Pistols(2 shots remaining, both need reload.).

793 words at wordcounttools

[Joline]

This was being in the heat of battle. This is what she missed out on so often with her old allies, she thought as she settled the pair of blades in her hands. It was a shame she couldn't enjoy this in the odd way one enjoyed battle - this was a fight out of necessity, not a spar with a friend or a fight for sport.

Her dagger's blade faced back and her longsword pointed toward her opponent - her stance while wielding the longsword and dagger, not unlike her hand-to-hand stance, no doubt reeked of familiarity to her opponent.

While she hadn't fought with a parrying dagger since her days in Hartschild, she remembered how some of the Shieldbearers fought, using an oddly-shaped dagger instead of a shield in their offhand. However, she clearly lacked the speed those Shieldbearers had which gave them their advantage.

A blade came down on Agnès rather quickly, which she blocked with the dagger. It seemed as though it wouldn’t function quite the same, but it would serve well enough for the time being. What she could only describe as teeth wouldn't allow such a large blade as the one her opponent was wielding between them, which left the blade trembling - it certainly didn't help that her raw physical strength wasn't much compared to her opponent's.

A second blade threatened to disarm her, perhaps more literally than she would like, and so she swept backwards out of the mess of steel, where at her heels was Shay.

"Please... hold on, Shay," she muttered as she advanced on her opponent once more.

With a half-thrust and a sidestep she tried to feint the tall orange-haired man, but in response she felt blunt metal connect with the side of her head, making her yelp and stagger backwards. She didn't let herself be set back, however - immediately she was on her assailant once more, though she was doing little more than keeping up with him, blocking any of his attempts at cutting her down.

Her mind felt hazy and her sight blurred a bit - maybe the blow she had taken to the head was harder than she had thought - but she couldn't stop fighting. It felt almost mechanical at this point, as though even if she wanted to, she simply couldn't stop.

Then came another unpleasant surprise. The man tossed one blade into the air and brushed her aside with a strength she'd not yet felt from his attacks. "If that will be all, wench," he spat, "I'll be killing you and your little friends now."

Agnès didn't feel like she could get up. Her dagger was out of reach, at least while she was on the ground like this, but she could still grab for her sword. As the giant of a man approached Shay, she struggled to her feet and fumbled the longsword in her hands.

"I. Won’t. Let you...!" she shouted as she charged him down. Before he had a chance to respond, either with words or steel, her blade had sunk into his chest. She stepped back with her hands moving away from the sword's hilt, only able to stare at what she had done.

"Even if I fall protecting them from you," she said, "I refuse to let them die! Stay your blade and let me save them!"

The longsword and dagger I got from Demetri are ultimately just RP fodder, or incidental weapons, or whatever. They could be planks of wood or sticks of dirt, or more reasonably I may as well have just used my fists, but it just generally makes more sense to, y'know, use weapons. Especially if they're available-ish.
551 words. I'd write more, but it's almost morning. I'm tired. I'M SO, SO TIRED. PLEASE LET ME SLEEP. Please don't murderkill me for not posting more. Tired. Zombie noises because tired.

[Tearen Wover]

You are a man of many assumptions, Gildarts Clive.

Nealaphh continued to hang in the air, listless, even as the howling gale which embraced Gildarts' body gently tugged and nudged at what had once been Nealaphh's arms and legs. Both Primes stared at each other, a pair of bloody visages bridged by mutual scorn. With measured motions, Nealaphh moved its remaining functional hand up to the side of its face and dabbed a smear of acid green vitriol onto its fingertips. It stared at the gruesome ichor in apparent curiosity before turning its attention back to the wizard before it. The man had become feral. Unhindered by any reservations for his destructive potential, and fueled by a scurrying mental fracass of regret and existential confusion, the God-Mind could now witness this human in his most raw state of being.

And it was delicious.

A thrumming mental chuckle echoed across the psionic gulf between their minds, resonating with resolute satisfaction. The God-Mind was about to share some more choice words when it noticed a swelling sensation within its arbitrary corpus. Ah, so the wizard had a glimmer of trickery within him after all. Gently, and with all the hurry of a slug, Nealaphh pulled this implanted force out of its body and cast it to the side, where it exploded in a shower of scree and pebbles. It was nearly imperceptible, but Nealaphh was able detect but a slight twitch of indignation as it disposed of the delayed attack.

Dear Gildarts, I believe we are far beyond the point of gimmicks. Here you stand before me, bloodied and honest. Your natural state of being.

There came a pause, and then Gildarts could feel a potency greater than his tenebrous opponent had yet summoned in this dire skirmish. A spotlight glared over the wizard's beaten frame as the Enigma's eyes flared with a brilliance greater than the midday sun. Again the God-Mind's accursed voice came, but in a timbre more primal and grave than before.

You have shown your true self to me. Allow me to indulge you in kind.


The wizard immediately flung all the power he had left to muster into his Crash magic, a pillar of white-hot ferocity enveloping Nealaphh’s broken body. Indeed, the terrible wrath of Gildarts sent rivulets of scintillating black blood spraying in every direction from the shadow.

It was no use. The process had already been set in motion. Force. That was all the sensation could be described as. Nealaphh's body shrank away into nothingness, replaced by a throbbing vortex of purest black. The rain, the stones, the dirt, Gildarts himself was bidden into this yawning chasm in time and space with interminable persistence. This was no mere conjuration of the gravity magic so familiar to the S-Class Mage; for all intents and purposes, the Singularity that was the God-Mind was as natural and potent as the wind and rain.

Even with his unchained might, there was no escaping the shadow’s pull. Clinging to anything and everything he could as he was steadily drawn inwards, Gildarts howled in defiance. Resistance could only last so long. As his grip slipped on the last hand hold available, Gildarts’ passage into the shuddering depths of the event horizon. A scream was cut short.

What struck Gildarts the most was the tranquility of the confines of the black hole. Perfect darkness was the only thing that could be perceived with...whatever it was that Gildarts had to perceive with within this strange place. There was certainly no sound, for he has no ears, and neither was there pain, for he did not have skin. It was a nearly perfect disassembly, ironic to the point that Gildarts may have either chuckled or roared if he had possessed a mouth.

...and yet, there was something more than just the darkness in this place. A distant, barely audible mantra that repeated itself every few seconds.

There is a white point in space. I can move relative to it.

If I remove the point, Nothing remains, but I can still move relative to my knowledge of that point.

When there is Nothing, I can perceive anything, for when only Nothing remains, it becomes everything.

The Void is perfection.














The next thing Gildarts was aware of was motion. Violent and explosive. He was airborne, and then, abruptly not so. Whatever had happened to him within that mysterious place now wracked his body with pain that was so savage, it demanded absolute stillness. Regardless, Gildarts defied his body’s screeching and inclined his head slightly. Just enough to see Nealaphh lying face down in the cold mud.

Nealaphh knew that it was not dead, everything else was uncertain. The only thought that it could maintain was far too human for its liking.

The rain felt nice.

Used Relativity Shift -1 SP
Used Black Hole -2 SP
Gildarts used Crash!

[Erik Vrell]

Erik stood, sword ready, prepared to fend off any attack that came his way. But in the end, it was too much. The psychic fell to his knees before his allies and his foes. Mageslayer stabbed into the sand and remained upright, only barely keeping Erik upright. "Not... Like... This..." Erik murmured. The collected injuries proved to great for the psychic, who fell to the ground with a thud. His body bloodied and broken, Erik couldn't rise no matter how hard he tried. His vision blurred and his eyes forced themselves closed. "I'm sorry friends." Erik telepathically cried with the last of his strength. "I failed you." And with that, Erik's body fell limp and the last violet spark dancing around his body died out. All that remained was a body and a sword jutting out of the ground, no longer able to carry out his duty.

[Ganondorf]

The sounds of combat died down around Ganondorf and the great Demon King allowed himself to smirk. Nippur had fallen. Satisfaction welled up within his bosom as his wolf-like eyes scanned the city turned battlefield. The common guards of the city began to scatter, heading to the relative safety of the desert, rather than stand any longer against the might of the LAW. Even the four who had combined their measly power to face his onslaught had fallen to their knees. Well, three were on their knees, the woman, the thief, and the sword-toting warrior. The last of his combatants lay nearby, unmoving. It seemed that during his beastly rampage, the boy had taken more of a beating than he could handle.

Near to his side, the infant whom had allied with him for the fight chuckled softly at their fallen foes and scurried over to poke at Erik Vrell, as a young child would poke at a dead animal. Ganondorf, himself, chose to leave the dead to lay as he instead focused on the three others. For their part, they alternated hateful gazes towards himself and the boy. After reverting back to his Gerudo form, the three of them had made a valiant stand against him, but in the end it was for naught. The Demon King’s savagery and Stewie’s mechanical genius became too much for the battered defenders. Eventually, they had been worn down, and though their injuries weren’t fatal, they lacked the energy to make a stand against him, at least for the moment.

Ganondorf briefly considered what to do with them and he made his way towards the trio, but he knew what his decision would be. Casting a side-look to Stewie, the great king barked an order to leave the body be, and returned his stern gaze to the men and woman, who were now kneeling at his feet as he stopped just before them.

“Insignificant worms,” Ganondorf spat, eyes gleaming in his anger and hatred. “You dared to stand against me, and what did it avail you? Nothing, but pain.”

The three of them couldn’t so much as get a word in edgewise before Ganondorf continues, a false smile gracing his lips.

“But never let it be said that Ganondorf, the True King of the Wastes, was not a merciful man. Go now. Leave this place and do not return. Choose life and I will let you live.”

A meaty hand rose, bare of its golden furnishing, and pointed at one of the three, however. “Except you, thief. You have taken what does not belong to you and I shall retrieve what is mine, before you go.”

Then, it was if the large Gerudo man had been overtaken by an animal once again. He attacked Demetri, with a ferocity as swift as it was savage. The thief could barely muster the strength to protect his vitals, while his companions struggled to make their feet to aid him. Before they could, the assault was suddenly over. Demetri lay upon the dusty ground, and though unconscious, he chest still rose and fell in the signs of life. Roughly, Ganondorf ripped free the man’s satchel and retrieved his golden gauntlets. With his belongings rightfully returned, the Gerudo tossed the bag upon the thief’s limp form and began to walk away from the three of them, Stewie hot on his heels.

“Remember what I said,” The Gerudo called back as he strode away. “Leave and live. Remain and die. Those are the choices left to you. And…” He chuckled softly as he continued, “take that trash with you when you go.”

[Proto Man]

There was a flash of light.

The wave of heat and energy chewed through the surrounding buildings, reducing the sandstone, brick, and wood constructions to ash and scorched rubble in one blinding moment of fire and desolation.

When the lights faded away, Proto Mouse found himself standing at the center of a devastated city block. Smoldering heaps served as now-dead pyres to mark the resting place of what had once probably been some sort of small market. From the sky, tiny feather-like flakes of black ash drifted to the earth while others were twirled around in the gentle breeze that blew through Nippur.

How many people had made their lifeblood selling merchandise on the blackened street beneath the rodent’s metal-encased feet?

Down the street, there was something that shifted among the rubble.

Was it wrong that Proto Mouse felt something akin to relief as he watched the broken man unearth himself from the pile of bomb-blackened sandstone?

Gilgamesh, leaning heavily on the strange sword he used in battle, forced himself into a standing position as the cybernetic mouse strode across the warzone toward him. It took the gilded monarch a moment to shake away the concussion. Once his vision had cleared, he scowled at the approaching warrior. “…f-f-fuh-fucking mongrel.” A light started to build in the barrel of the Proto Buster. “You can’t kill your betters.” He added with a sneer that revealed a blood-filled maw and a handful of missing teeth.

“I’m not you, Gilgamesh,” Proto Mouse whispered as the light amassed within the weapon. “I don’t murder people. I just try and do what I can to make this a better place.”

At that, the man grinned and shook his head. “And that’s why you’ll never be more than the rest of the chattel that inhabits this place. You’re spineless. You don’t understand what is necessary to survive. To thrive.” The bloody sneer grew wider. “You’ll never be more than gutter trash. Go back to that city of yours and wallow in the sewers with the rest of the human filth.”

Proto Mouse returned the smile as he lifted his weapon. “I’d rather be spineless than whatever you may be, and I’d rather wallow with the human filth than ever lower myself to what you are.”

“I’ve had enough pauper philosophy for one afternoon,” Gilgamesh said before spitting at the cyborg’s feet.

“Never forget that it was this pauper who booted you from your golden throne, asshole.”

“Fuck you, Mouse.”

Proto Mouse felt the emotion drain from his face as he lined up his shot. “Banishment Buster!”

There was a split-second flash of an emotion—fear?—on Gilgamesh’s mangled countenance before the beam of energy crashed against his chest and vanished into him. A beat later, the monarch, grinding together his remaining teeth, dropped to his knees and dug his fingers into the ground. He managed to lift his eyes to meet Proto Mouse’s gaze one final time before his body crumbled into ash and slipped free of the Omniverse.

Walking forward to the final site of the fallen king, Proto Mouse stooped down and picked up the sword from the ground.

-1 Banishment Circle
+1 Ea

Gilgamesh = Banished

[Victor Wolfe]

Looking down at the Demon Victor prepared his blade ready to finish the job, until he noticed the smell of burning, and death, lots of death, a sickening sweet smell that filled his lungs , the battle above ground was clearly going worse than he had assumed. “Looks like you are lucky Demon, maybe we will do this at a later date but I think I have bigger targets to take care of” Victor smirked whilst swaying, the blood loss making it difficult to stay on his feet.

Victor climbed up the stairs using the railing to provide support exiting the house noticing the trails of blood from Dean and his fight, using it to track his way back to the courtyard, the smell and sight of the dead and dying leaving a familiar burn in his nose, he noticed the sound of commotion and people fleeing the city “smart people, hard to blame them for evacuating, sad to see such a lovely city burning” Victor thought to himself “ someone needs to pay” Rage fuelled Victor giving him the energy to break out into a run towards the nearest commotion , he passed the desecrated streets, some still flowing with blood , there was no sport in this level of murder and it disgusted the assassin. He decided to cloak himself just in case he ran into any opponents

Arriving at the scene of what appeared to have been a large scale conflict, His allies looked battered and beaten and the Thief was being attacked by a beast of a man, towering over even the rather tall Victor in height, the thief had no chance of fighting back, and although seeing his onetime enemy getting beat was slightly satisfying. Victor could not help but feel sorry for him. “There are only two of them, but the big guy is strong, I think with our injuries there is a good chance that we might all die.” Victor noticed the body of his fallen comrade, “poor kid, I hope that the smiling one allows him to return to us”. “Looks like I found the perfect target for some, therapy.” Victor had to hold back sadistic glee as he moved quietly behind the now walking away giant. “Maybe it will be a good apology for almost killing him if we get the thief those shiny new gauntlets.” Victor smirked.

Ganondorf was oblivious to the assassin allowing him to get directly behind him, and in one quick move Victor grasped the edges of the gauntlets causing them to slip off towards the ground, with a slight backwards Jump Victor avoided Ganon’s fist and then rushed forward a purple filled syringe planted firmly in the king’s chest. The cloaking wearing off to reveal the evil smirk on Victors face, he looked directly into the eyes of the would-be usurper “Sorry but we like to send our trash to be burned around these parts” As he pressed the syringe causing the once proud king to turn into ash.

Victor then grabbed the gauntlets from the ground running over to his allies putting the gauntlets into Demetri’s satchel, before anyone could say anything Victor singled for silence “ You guys have to get out of here, take the thief with you and try to help guide the civilians that escape, Agnès I need you to go with the refugees and help any the injured” Before the others could Protest Victor almost shouted “ Why are you still here , you have your mission , now get out before it’s too late, I will meet with you guys later.” Victor had an idea that there might not be a later, it’s likely that the kid ran off to get more help and he could not allow any of his comrades to die, that would be unprofessional and he was tired of constant betrayal. “ Give me your best shots you raiding scum” Victor shouted his adrenaline all that was keeping him standing.

Used 1 banishment circle -Ganon Banished.

[Tearen Wover]

It was...

difficult to gauge how much time passed between the point when Nealaphh had lost consciousness and when it awoke under the smoke blurred sunlight of the Endless Dunes. Its form was still battered and leaking a shimmering black fluid, but at least it was able to function. A faint telepathic whine was the only sound that accompanied the God-Mind's belabored rise to its feet. Not far from where it had lain, the hero Gildarts lay still as well, breathing shallowly. He was unconscious; this much Nealaphh could at least tell. The shadow looked down at the bleeding human's body, and then up to the sun in the sky.

Gildarts had already been ill, and now his body was severely damaged on top of it all. The last thing the wizard needed was to die from exposure. So, with the dull thuds of siege still echoing in the background, Nealaphh set about erecting a small lean-to, woven from the sand itself using just a trickle of Omnilium, to keep Gildarts shaded from the harsh rays of whatever object in the sky it was that claimed to be a star. Content with its handiwork, Nealaphh etched a small series of characters into the wall of the sandstone shack; it's contact credentials for its communicator and Dataverse email. The shadow knew Gildarts to be an ally of Princess Guu; it would not do for any bad blood to flow as a result of this unfortunate encounter.

Taking a moment to steel itself, Nealaphh then turned to regard the distant walls of Nippur. Demetri, Victor and Tom were all still inside that burning city, no doubt. Between the three of them, they comprised the entire Unity branch of the Omniverse Institute. To leave an asset such as that on the table for either New Babylon or their enemies to capture was unacceptable, but at the same time, Nealaphh was not in a position to defend them from any attackers. It scanned the sky for ideas, and encountered them in the form of the slow, drifting shapes of buzzards riding the blood-fouled eddies that wafted from the capitol. Nobody would be thinking to look twice at any carrion eaters in this aftermath. Would a crow be so far fetched as to be conspicuous among the other avian scavengers? Nealaphh highly doubted it.

After a few moments, the God-Mind had shifted its form into that very same ebon creature, which took painfully to the wing with a noisome squawk. Quickly it flew over the rumbling walls, high above the flames and massacre, keen eyes peering down at the sandy streets far below. The death and destruction did nothing to assault the God-Mind's sensibilities; such disarray and suffering was a balm to its restless soul. It would not do to get lost in the ecstasy of the thousand distraught minds that screamed in unison, however. That time was still a long way off.

A flare of saffron light caught the crow's eye. Beneath the hail of blistering yellow light, Nealaphh could barely make out the form of Tom Riddle being reduced to ruin at the behest of a Prime that the God-Mind did not recognize. Though it might pain a human to prioritize one ally over another, Nealaphh had no reservations about forgoing its search for the other two Institute members in order to rescue the highest ranking one. Once the assailing, red-skinned Prime had moved on, the shadow tucked its wings into its sides and dove straight at the crater where Tom's remains still smoldered. It was with dull surprise that Nealaphh happened upon, not a corpse, but a book. A book whose mind reeled with resentment and humiliation. Without a moment's hesitation, the crow hopped over to the soot-encrusted tome and clutched it in two grey talons before rocketing skyward. Anyone who had seen this event may have grown suspicious of such a thing, but again, Nealaphh was certain that this would be the least of their worries.

It seems you have not been entirely forward with me, Tom. Nealaphh crooned as it alighted on a distant parapet, gently placing the book on the clay balcony and peering down at the city. There was no immediate response.

This is good. Any associate of mine who cannot keep a secret is not worth sustaining a relationship with.

Nealaphh peered down at the city that it and Tom had just vacated. Several Primes were still facing off, though they were all badly injured. The God-Mind observed dispassionately as Demetri Malius was beaten into the ground by Ganondorf's might. Not a moment later, however, Victor Wolfe stepped from the shadows and sent the Gerudo to the Underverse with one of his dreaded purple syringes. An interesting turn of events, but it didn't change the tactical layout of Nealaphh's agenda. Victor and Demetri were important assets, but they themselves did not know that Tom and itself were even in Nippur. Based on Victor's defensive stance, it seemed he was willing to fight till the end for New Babylon. It was irksome, to be honest, and Nealaphh wasn't sure if the assassin had any sort of fealty to the Institute at all. Perhaps this would be a time to test that.

Giving up the premise of anonymity, Nealaphh sent out a telepathic address to Tom, Victor and Demetri (if the thief was even still conscious). Perhaps giving Victor a reason to flee would be all the incentive that Wolfe needed.

Victor, Demetri. This is the Headmaster. I am at an undisclosed location in Nippur, and I have seen what has transpired here.

A small lie, but ultimately inconsequential.

Wolfe, I request that you see to Demetri's safety. You and any New Babylon allies who desire protection can travel with the Dean of Unity and myself to Darkshire in the Pale Moors. Rendevouz with us by sundown ten miles east of Nippur if you can and are willing. If not, we will move on.

With that Nealaphh hopped off of the balcony where it was perched and glanced at Tom's bound form out of the corner of its beady eye.

Well Tom, what say you? I think it's time we made some concrete progress.

[Dean Winchester]

Dean was furious, there was no way this little punk was going to get away with what he had done and said. Pushing himself up off the floor the demon rose a walking mess of blood, glass, and stab wounds. This battle had taken a toll on him but it had not been enough to put him out of commission for good, it had only served to piss him off even more.

The Deanmon was out for Victor's blood.

Ascending the stairs Dean managed to get his bearings and then slowly make him way to the front door and take a look out just in time to see Victor go after someone the Winchester did not recognize, though none of that mattered to Dean. The only thing he was focused on right now was the fact that the little bitch had his back turned on him, and for this simple display of arrogance Dean was going to make sure he died.

Pulling out the colt 1911 Dean stumbled out of the building to get closer to his target, the assassin stood ignorant of what was coming for him. The demon wasn't sure if this was due to fatigue or ego, but it was at least working out in his favour. Raising the pistol Dean took aim at the man's back, since the torso was the easiest part of the body to hit, and he pulled the trigger.

The sound of the shot rang out in the distance and only a couple seconds later it was followed by another, and then finally a third. Dean bared his teeth in a vicious grin as each bullet hit their mark and blood blossomed from Victor's chest. Holstering the gun the Winchester ran forward, funnelling his energy one last time into a burst of speed to close the gap even quicker, as his victim sunk to his knees and then finally slumped to the ground.

Coming up to his target Dean gripped Victor by the hair with his left hand, dragging the assassin to his feet to face him, as his free hand drew the first blade. Victor was barely conscious, their fight and Dean's sneak attack taking there toll on him, and his breathing was becoming more and more laboured. Bringing the first blade up to the punk's throat he made sure to look the man directly in the eyes before shouting at him.

“DON'T. EVER. FUCK. WITH ME!” The demon's voice accented it word, but it sounded like it had taken on a whole new quality as he shouted. It sounded as if three different voices, each one having a different pitch and tone to it, were screaming at the man trying to escape through the same vocal cords. It was a sound that no human should have ever been able to make.

This alone would have been enough to chill the blood of anyone near by, but what happened next only made it worse. The first blade bit into Victor's neck, the jagged blade tearing through the ateries causing a spray of blood to coat Dean. Victor, to his credit, did not scream though as the blade tore through his neck. It did at least produce a very satisfying gurgling noise which cased the mark of Cain to flare to life.

The rage, the thrill of killing, the sound his victim made as he died, it all sent shivers down this demon's spine. If Dean could have frozen himself in this moment in time he probably would have.

This was the feeling of pure bliss, though it would not last. Soon after dropping Victor's lifeless body to the ground all the pain and fatigue came rushing back to hit him like a brick wall, causing the Winchester to fall down to his knees.

”I need a fucking beer.” Dean growled, his voice slowly returning to normal as he looked about at the carnage they had brought to this place. ”And I need to find my car.”

Closing his eyes Dean waited a brief moment to collect himself before slowly getting up to his feet and very slowly making his way to the Impala's wreckage, each step taking a great deal of effort and concentration, wondering how the hell he was going to get it out of here.

Used The Colt pistol to shoot Vic in the back.

Used Burst speed again, starting to wear on Dean, he is very very tired and sore.

Also because I forgot to do it my last post of the other fight I have 2/3 SP left after using the supermove.

[Todd Ingram]

"NOOOO ! Why did you do this ?!" Stewie cried out as he ran towards the pile of dust that was his newly found friend Ganondorf just moments ago. He saw it all from only a few meters away, how Victor turned his ally to dust, how he took the gloves and placed it Demetri's satchel. Stewie rushed over and crumbled to the ground that was just moments ago a battlefield. The infant's hands moved through the pile of Ganon dust, "What have you done to him ? Will he be alright ?" There was no one to answer Stewie's questions. He felt alone, as alone as a Bieber fan at an ACDC concert.

He heard some ruckus going on and his tear filled eyes witnessed the murder of Victor. The person that started this all for the young genius, Dean, took the assassin's life. Yet even this sight, could not mend the pain he was feeling. Even though he only met him, he felt a connection when riding the glorious tusked boar. This marvelous creature was no longer amongst them, and it pissed Stewie off. His tears found their way down his chubby little cheeks, from the corner of his eyes he saw Dean walking away, as if he didn't even recognize the bundle of terror that is Stewie.

A fist was formed as anger was the primary emotion within Stewie's head. His anger was looking for an outlet, something to take out his anger. Suddenly his sight was set on someone close, someone on the ground, someone who had taken something from his new friend. The heart torn infant got up and walked towards Demetri's body that was laying in the dirt, "Give it back you bastard !" The thief did not answer, only a groan was heard, he was hurt badly. Stewie didn't care, it was this thief and the other bastards with him that did all of this. "I said give it back !" he screamed out, his filled with both anger and sadness as he kicked Demetri in the stomach. "Uergh"

Without a moment's hesitation Stewie took the thief's satchel and started going through it, throwing out several items before finally finding what he was looking for. A shield was thrown against the wall behind Stewie, a sword got thrown aside, the pistol was glanced at by Stewie with aversion before tossing aside and finally he found what he was looking for, the gauntlets. The football headed boy took out the oversized gloves and held them pressed against his chest before kicking the assassin once more, "Don't you know it's wrong to steal you bastard." Holding on to the magical gauntlets close to him with shaking hands.

"Give.... those back, you freak!" A cracking voice spoke behind him, "Those are -my- trophies, don't make me take them from you." Stewie turned around and saw Demetri slowly getting up, the assassin was hurt but there was still life in him, and he was willing to start another fight over the warlock's gloves. Something deep inside Stewie told him it was a bad idea to face this man who clearly had very little to lose. The wind was finding its way through the war torn streets of Nippur and stirring up some of the sand between the two.

"I would strongly disadvise you doing that, thief." A third and unfamiliar voice spoke. Both Stewie and Demetri looked up and gazed upon the yellow light that was emitting from Sinestro's corps ring. " I suggest you leave now, leave quick, and never return here. Go now before I change my mind and cut off those thieving claws you call hands."

Demetri did not hesitate a moment, he knew when he was beat, a final glance was thrown at Stewie before walked towards the gate of Nippur. The infants eyes were aimed upwards, towards the new arrival. Even though he had seen him on the battlefield, he had no idea who the yellow man was, or who's side he was on. Holding both gauntlets with one arm he reached for his pistol that was on his lower back. "There is no need for that little one." Sinestro said. "Was it true what you said earlier, about Ganondorf being your friend ? Your ally ? " Stewie responded with nothing but a single nod.
"What do you plan on doing with those ? " Sinestro asked the genius.

"I was going to keep them safe, as a reminder of the mighty boar. "

Sinestro descended and landed near the new prime. "A reminder ? Ganondorf isn't dead. He is a prime, primes don't die. They reappear at the nexus. But, this is different. It seems my old friend has been send to a bad place. A place so terrible, that everyone that has been send there don't ever return." Sinestro paused for a long while. "But Ganondorf isn't everyone, he will come back to us, he will prevail."

"Are you his ally ?"

"Yes i am, i have been for a while. My name is Sinestro, i am with Law."

" Law ? Sounds like a terrible 80's rock band. But anyway, i am Stewie. And if you are his ally, will you hold on to these ? So you can return them to him once he returns ?"

The lantern looked at the child and accepted the gesture. " I will keep these, for now. It seems i owe you my thanks, for assisting my allies in battle."

"Ow it was nothing, just good fun." Stewie modestly replied.

"Allot of my allies have been hurt, killed or even worse, I could use a soldier like yourself. To secure this city, cleanse it from the tyranny that has reigned here for too long."

Stewie looked around, at the ruins that were once respectable buildings, "You really want to stay in this sandcastle? But fine, it's not like I got any other plans. Sure, I will help."

Sinestro showed no emotions" Thank you Stewie, I shall keep these for now, Go on your way, I shall find you soon enough."

"You really have a tone for the dramatic don't you ? Have you done any broadwayshows by any chance ?"

Sinestro ignored the question and flew up high in the sky, once more Stewie was alone, but this time with a goal.

"Ahwell time to punch in and start my new job"

[Tom Marvolo Riddle]

It amazed me to note that I believe I had passed out during one of those timely moments when the sorting hat took me my frequented spots upon the dataverse. Though this bout of entertainment had a dream like quality that suffered from bad acting and poor script writing. Either way I was out cold for long enough to be subjected to an entire feature film in my unconscious state. What caused it, I could only guess. An educated guess but a guess nonetheless.

Maybe from pain, injury, both or something else entirely. One moment I was the mouse at the mercy of a giant cat and the next I was nothing. Obviously my construct had been devastated to the point of disbursal and the injuries sustained by my true body had overwhelmed me… what was worrisome though was that it was human in reaction though I lacked many of the qualities that made me such.

I was a book after all.

Which was perhaps also why I found myself being stolen; lifted away in the embrace of what felt like claws… or mayhap, talons. That was striking itself, an odd sensation really. The pressure of the ground being removed and spindly pointed digits prickling either side of my binding. Like drilling ants burrowing into the temples of my metaphorical head. Painful to say the least.

"It seems..." the being began in a mental burst that burned with shining colors across my mindscape including bright pain. Injury without a full body and mental communication did not cooperate well it seems. But it was the only sensation that I could latch onto other than the claws that bore me. I tolerated it.

A dull thud and pressure brought a new wash of pain in scintillating technicolor to my body; but more importantly it was letting me know now I was fully grounded, or as close as I could tell to touching a weight supporting structure. Stretching out my senses I felt around me to the most limited way, a sort of mental prodding until I found where I could best position myself and then I began to focus as Nealaphh completed his communication to myself and the others.

I focused on the agony, on the reality it brought me, pain meant life, it meant reality, and it was what kept me here among those great and weak. I was real. Like before I focused on the lifeblood I had taken from the last two who had hosted me, who succored my weakened state enough to take human form. That memory became the template to which I fed it energy. The energy of them somehow given a concrete and permanent place within my existence, of my essence. I drew in magic, like one would breathing, and effected the force of will to reshape reality and spent a scant amount of the omnilium that my very consciousness seemed so adept at handling and focused into a form I was familiar with.

The concept of Forever, what exemplified me, wrapping everything that was left of me now upon that singular point.

Forever.

The world peeled away from thought, darkness and the sense of touch to resounding sound and glimmer of the real. Fatigue burned it's way upon me as I grew from an outstretched hand upon my true body, ink forming the base, the veins, paper wrapping around it into the other various tissues and finally ghostly skin layering over it until all that was left was me as I first had been upon arrival in this place.

How I was aware of thus, I have no idea. Magic perhaps the best answer by my estimation. I was aware of who I was, and that was all that was needed.

"Progress for progress's sake," I said as soon as I had a mouth to smile with, though somewhere it failed as weariness ebbed away what little energy I had. Too tired to care, the only thing I could really bother about was the ghost of pain across my body, even now it had the faint phantom like quality I had previous when it was about ready to give up.

But whether I cared or not was irrelevant, my goals took precedence. With sordid breath I drew my hand out and pulled on my omnilium. Not really summoning anything, just pulling at something hidden in it. Something already bought and payed for, its essense having marked my fractured soul.

A hat fell upon my head and the stream to the dataverse resumed once more. At the same time I commanded a search of the place that Neal had mentioned. Renowned for the monsters? That made my estimates of the place shoot up a bit and the climate was probably as close to the Scottish Highlands as I had ever heard of so far since arriving.

"How do you propose we get to these… Moors?” I asked mutedly, before adding, “Sounds like a wonderful place to set up shop.”

I surveyed the area around us, the panorama being filmed by the dataverse, of the destruction, the gore, the typical example of humanity and human like nature turning upon itself in pitiful attempt at dominance. The lack of any natural resources and these idiots were fighting over a scrap of land that was meaningless. No, when I wrought Hogwarts upon the earth, I’d ensure that it’d be as eternal as I was. Perhaps more so if my will was done.

[Demetri Malius]

Victor, Demetri....I am at an undisclosed location in Nippur...

Words filled the thief's mind as he struggled o stay conscious. His body screamed in pain and yearned for rest, his abilities withering and his mind heavy with fatigue. He could only catch phrases of his headmasters orders.

Wolfe, I request that you... allies who desire protection can travel with... Pale Moors.... ten miles east of Nippur if you can and are willing...

As the words died and faded, leaving the thief with only murmurs and shuffling around him after his thrashing from the warlock. As he lay motionless, he could see his precious satchel in front of him.He could barely make out those around him with his senses. The warlock, the devious child, the demon, the assassin. It seemed as if the whole city was helping themselves as he watched different pairs of hands grasp his satchel.A flash of light and the warlock was gone. Demetri could barely muster his energy to open his eyes, until a large shot rang in his ears. He could feel the assassin's life seep from his body as he fell to the floor. Confusion. Worry. It was time to move, to get out of this place.

Small footsteps came over by his body, kicking up dusty into his already squinting eyes, before rummaging through his satchel for the gloves that had exchanged hands, like a harlot in the streets. The thief slowly picked himself off the floor his body rigid and aching as he gritted his teeth. "Those... are my trophies... don't force me to take them back and-"

"I would strongly advise you against doing that, thief." The red-faced sorcerer interrupted him and caused the thief to grind his teeth even further. He was severely outnumbered. With a quick roll he snatched up his satchel and faded as the child turned to face the sorcerer, using the rest of his energy to flee the scene. He must report to the Headmaster, the city has fallen, the enemy is victorious. he quickly went over to Victor's body, checking his vital signs, but it was too late, the prime was dead. Damn... As he thief cursed under is breath he noticed the pair of daggers slowly losing their power from their owners death. He took one last glance before stashing them in his satchel. They were no use to the dead assassin anyways, so he might as well. Demetri would have to report the current situation to the Headmaster.

With pained movements, the thief moved through the streets to the east, heading to the rendezvous that Nealaphh had mentioned. He felt his enemies fall behind him as they let him be, most likely because he was not directly affiliated with this New Babylon group. In either case, he needed to regroup fast, who knew what their foes had next in mind...

[Proto Man]

The city burned.

Great pillars of flame and smog twisted above the post-apocalyptic, pre-modern skyline of Nippur. Entire districts of the city lay in smoldering heaps, their once busy streets buried beneath the debris.

For his part, Proto Mouse wandered down one of the less obstructed thoroughfares. During his confrontation with the gilded king, the cyborg had known that battles raged throughout the rest of the city. In his focus on Gilgamesh, he had paid little attention to the rest of the situation as it raged around him. Now he found a scowl embedded across his features as he soaked in the true extent of the devastation.

Accounts spoke of the battle mostly focusing on the struggle between groups of primes. Proto Mouse recognized many of the names—Sinestro, Ganondorf, Gildarts, Victor Wolfe—although a few were new to him. From reports, the majority of the combatants had since fled the city, leaving behind a few fallen primes amid a sea of secondaries caught in the conflagration.

Proto Mouse, wrapped in a cloak, made his way toward the interior of the city. On his way in, he passed a column of refugees shuffling toward the periphery. Up ahead, the street opened up into a town square. A once gleaming palace lay behind a shattered wall and a gate long since blown off of its hinges. The cyborg made his way through the destruction and into the palace. Smoke still hung in the air as he passed over a threshold blown apart by some sort of wayward energy blast.

“Defensive positions!”

The voice rang out as a collection of men in armor wielding crossbows and poleaxes rushed out, forming a loose semi-circle around the cybernetic mouse. For his part, Proto Mouse lifted up his hands and made no aggressive maneuvers.

“I’m looking for who is in charge,” the mouse inquired as he glanced around at the assemblage of soldiers.

From behind the line, someone stepped forward—a man in bronze armor. “Gilgamesh.”

Proto Mouse shook his head. “Who is in charge after him.” To help sell the point, the cyborg presented the sword. “He’s gone.”

“Dead? He’ll be back soon.”

“He’s gone.” The rodent replied. “You need to enact whatever protocols you have to ensure this place doesn’t collapse into the sand.”

The officer in bronze scowled and reached for a sword at his side. “You banished him?”

“If you draw that weapon, you’ll wake up with a really bad headache,” Proto Mouse muttered as he turned and made his way out of the palace.

***

Half an hour later, Proto Man and Mickey Mouse slipped out through a breach in the city wall. Hand-in-hand, the undersized twosome made their trek back through the Dunes in relative silence. In their heads, they each processed the recent battle in their own manner, reflecting on the experience.

“Think we did those people any favors?” Proto Man asked after nearly forty minutes additional minutes of silence. “Or you just think that Lieutenant Despot will just take up the mantle?”

Mickey thought for a moment and let out a soft sigh. “I’m not sure, Bud. This place… the Omniverse… the rules are different here, you know?”

“What you mean?”

“People like you and me,” Mickey started, glancing over at the visor-covered eyes of his friend. “We’re the minority. The whole premise of this place is the pursuit of power, and most of that power is gained through the… the destruction of others. Power through blood.

I mean, do you really think that Sinestro and Roland lead that assault because they’re saints?”

The mouse’s question brought a frown to the android’s face, but try as he might, he couldn’t deny a thing. Sinestro and the others had seemed utterly at peace as they burned and blasted their way through the streets of Nippur.

“This place is terrible.” Proto Man whispered.

When Mickey broke the momentary silence, the former king’s voice was thick with sadness.

“This is not home for heroes.”